Those Darn Magazines
by Blueberry Ragamuffin
Summary: Harry saved the wizarding world from Voldemort and Ginny plays professional Quidditch. They both have their fans, but how do they react when those fans'...fanatics are thrown in their faces? A companion piece - not a sequel - to A Scary Story. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Harry's Point

**A/N: I usually don't post author notes at the start of the story, but I just wanted to let you know that this is a nice companion to _A Scary Story. _This isn't the sequel, though. It can be read on its own. This is only going to be about three chapters total, so it's just a fun little ficlet :)**

* * *

After the war, it was very easy for the witches and wizards of Britain to fawn over Harry Potter. Defeating Voldemort would give anyone fame and fans, and since Harry was nowhere near an ugly young man, it was much easier for him to have a certain type of fans: _fan girls. _They began writing love letters to him a few weeks after the war ended, and every resident of the Burrow seemed intent on reading every one of them. Out loud.

"'Dear Harry,'" Ron read. "'You've never seen me—'"

"Always a great start to a relationship," Bill said to Harry.

"'—but I have seen you. I would like to thoroughly change my being a stranger to you and meet you for sip of coffee sometime. Please enjoy these..._photos_...'"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley said. "This poor woman doesn't need any of your teasing."

"That isn't a woman," George said. "What d'you know, Harry really does turn people around."

Harry found the letters—particularly the people behind the quills— funny in the way that he thought that they were all delusional. _They don't find _me _attractive, _he thought. _They find my name attractive. _He wasn't completely wrong; but he was very far from correct. Ginny was the most aware of his misconceptions.

"You think that these women don't think you're sexy?" she asked him in disbelief. That morning the Burrow had just received a boatload of fan mail from women very interested in him, or rather, specific parts of him.

"They just like my name," he said. "Like you when you were a kid. You didn't know what I looked like or how I acted, but you still wanted to marry me."

"I never thought I'd say this, but these women want to marry you more than I did when I was eleven."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Charlie said. "I was one of the ones you confided in most. 'Do you think he'll love me, Charlie?'" Charlie was now running around the kitchen table in order to dodge his sister. "'D'you think he'll marry me?'"

"Charlie, if you wish and try with all your heart, I know that you'll land the bloke." Bill said. After a few _shut up_s and _make me_s, their playful fight was taken into the living room.

"Seriously, though; aren't you even a little flattered by these women?" Ginny asked.

"Eh, not really."

Ginny couldn't believe that. She looked up at him in utter disbelief.

"'Dear Harry Potter,'" she read out loud from one of the letters. "'My name is Helga Winehurst, and I would love to invite you to my winter cottage for the weekend. I'm sure that we will have a delightful time, snuggling by the fire together—'"

"She didn't write that!" he exclaimed. Positive that she was joking, his face fell as he read the letter to himself. "Bloody hell, who writes that?"

"Helga Winehurst, your 'devoted, soon-to-be lover' writes that."

"You aren't taking all of this seriously, are you?"

"Well, that Helga is a bit frightening," Ginny admitted. "She's probably writing from St. Mungo's or something. But there are others who are probably a lot more persuasive."

"Wait, you think that I would actually contact these people?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe," she said without looking at him.

Harry didn't have the chance to respond thanks to Hermione's urgent call for Ginny. Not that he would've said anything to improve the situation, but this time it was taken from him.

Ginny and Harry's relationship was complicated after the war. He wanted to give her time to mourn, which made her believe that he was done with her. She was more disappointed than angry, albeit there were nights where she imagined cursing his bits off. At the end of the day, she just wanted for him to find the one he was looking for, even if that woman wasn't her.

He was so close to telling her how he felt. He'd rehearse it in his head. _Ginny, just tell me when you're ready, because I've been ready for over a year now. _Another, _I know that you think that I'm a git, and you're right, but..._.Well, he never finished that one. Either way, he knew from spending over a year missing her and thinking about her that he wanted to be with her.

* * *

The weeks turned into months, and before anyone knew it, the leaves changed their colour and suddenly fall was upon them. Ginny and Hermione returned to the rebuilt Hogwarts for their seventh year; Ron started working in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with George; Harry began his Auror training; Charlie returned to his dragons; Percy got a new job at the Ministry, and Bill stayed working at Gringotts. Nothing would ever return to normal, though the daily routines seemed to ease everyone out of their war-driven minds.

Molly was insistent on making sure that nobody forgot about each other. One Sunday in October, she hosted the first Weasley Sunday. She even made sure to bring Hermione and Ginny out of Hogwarts for the weekend so they could attend.

Naturally, the kids ended up playing Quidditch together. It was also the day where Harry feared for his life while playing, specifically while playing against Ginny. Something in her eyes when they took flight scared him. They were both playing as the seeker, though he was afraid that he wouldn't be very good if he had to race Ginny.

Eventually, his horrible luck became even worse. The snitch was right above Ginny's head; _get the snitch or risk being pushed off of your broom?_ Harry asked himself. Ginny met his eyes, and that something in her burst aflame. She raced toward him, unaware that the snitch was near her. Harry acted out of impulse and dived down. Ginny ended up chasing him around the Burrow a few times until she landed on the roof.

Harry knew that he was thick. However, he wasn't so thick that he would be able to constitute leaving Ginny on the roof. He landed and sat down beside her.

"What are we doing, Ginny?" he asked.

"We're wrecking the Weasley Quidditch match."

"You know what I mean,"

"Yeah," she said. "I honestly don't know anymore."

"Then I'm not the only one?"

"No," she said through her slight laughter.

Her smile pumped up his confidence. "So," he started, "who're you dating these days?"

His instincts probably saved his life. One second he was sitting on the roof, the next he was clinging to the roof with all his might.

"What do you ruddy mean, 'Who're you dating?' Are you really so thick that you think it isn't at all insensitive to ask about my dating life?"

"I-I was just curious," he sputtered out as he tried to climb up. She gave him her hand and pulled him up. He assumed that she wasn't as angry at him as a second ago. He assumed wrong when she none too gently punched his shoulder.

Before she could get out any of her anger, Harry said, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she asked.

"Everything," he said. "I'm sorry that I haven't written you at all or talked to you like a person after the war. I'm just so sorry that I've hurt you."

It was silent. The roof seemed to be in a world of its own; he could clearly hear the Weasleys on the ground, but he seemed to be able to ignore them without at all trying. Harry thought of it as a still version of flying.

He didn't want to disturb the silence, yet he was growing anxious of Ginny's response. She was thinking with clear focus, though the fire in her eyes had gone out when she looked up at him. He liked her eyes better when she wasn't about to kill him.

A second passed when they were just staring at each other, and Harry was nearly positive that she wasn't going to push him again. He was even more positive when she brought their lips together.

The rooftop did bring a certain type of serenity, though even the Weasleys could break that. "Oi, get a room!" and "Bloody hell, that's my sister!" infiltrated his senses. Ginny broke off the kiss with a wistful smile, then hollered down, "Oi, shut up you lot!"

* * *

It was now December, and Harry and Ron were visiting Hermione and Ginny for their Hogsmeade trip. Harry and Ginny had been dating smoothly for a few months now, with letters in full swing. Hermione and Ron had been dating for about the same amount of time, and appeared to be getting on well when they weren't fighting their heads off. Nobody worried about them; it was in their nature to fight.

They found a table at the Three Broomsticks and talked happily with each other. Hermione and Ginny were bubbling with anticipation over something. After a while, Ron couldn't stop from blurting out, "What's so important that you two are jumping in your seats?"

"Well..." Hermione said with relish. "Witch Weekly just announced who their Bachelor of the Year is."

"And...?" Ron asked.

Ginny brought out a magazine from her bag and showed the table the cover. Harry almost spit out his butterbeer and Ron choked on his food.

"Harry's bachelor of the year?" Ron asked; whether in disgust or surprise Harry would never know.

"Don't worry, he doesn't get all the attention," Hermione assured him. She flipped a few pages and showed Harry and Ron a list of the eligible bachelors.

"I'm number three?" he asked in shock.

"Neville's number two," added Ginny. "It seems like all the Gryffindors are popular among the witches."

"That's a load of rubbish," said Harry. Ron reading the pages with interest didn't help his point.

"Harry, you can't deny it now," said Ginny. "Women _like _you. They would very much like to—"

"Aargh, no they don't." He said.

"Harry," Hermione said in a very solemn tone. "As an Auror, haven't you noticed that most of the women here are staring—excuse me, _drooling _over you and Ron?"

"I see them, but they don't find me physically attractive. We killed Voldemort, so of course we'll be popular among the witches and wizards."

"Particularly the witches," said Ginny.

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. He looked over to Ron for backup, but Ron's nose was buried in the magazine.

"What do you think, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Huh? Oh, er, it's very nice."

"Nice? You like that thousands of strange women are fawning over you?"

Ron apparently didn't respond fast enough, for Hermione's face grew red with anger and her voice became acidic. Harry and Ginny were used to their arguing and knew that in a few hours, at the most a few days, the two would be back to normal. However, it was not fun to be witness to the evolution, so they both silently agreed to slip their part of the cheque on the table and leave.

As the duo walked through the snow splattered streets of Hogsmeade hand in hand, Harry felt quite content. He was in a much better life than the one he had a year ago. It reminded him of his sixth year, except this time there was no looming threat to ignore.

"You really don't care about that Witch Weekly, do you?" she asked.

"_No,_" he said.

"You're so weird sometimes. Don't worry, that's a compliment."


	2. Ginny's Point

Ginny collapsed on the living room sofa, absolutely exhausted from her Quidditch practice. She had been playing for two years at the time, and it seemed that the training never slackened. She honestly couldn't remember a time when she hadn't returned from practice without wanting to sleep for a straight week.

Harry was typically very understanding of Ginny's training; he would often make her dinner on her practice days and be even more sensitive to her than usual. That night was an exception.

"Look at this," he demanded as he stormed into the living room. Ginny forced herself to open her drooping eyes, if only to see a glimpse of a magazine.

"What about it?" she asked.

"Did you even see it?"

"Ugh, Harry, I'm too tired to look at anything right now."

"It's _you. _On the front cover."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're Broomsticks Weekly's 'sexiest witch in Quidditch.'"

That broke Ginny's exhausted reverie. She sat up with the speed of lightning to grab the magazine from Harry's hands.

"_What?_" she screeched. "How—why would—damn them—"

Harry's chuckle interrupted her cursing. "You think this is funny?" she asked.

"Well...they aren't wrong, love. You're definitely _my _sexiest Quidditch player."

"You prat," she said lovingly as she shoved his shoulder.

"But on the other hand," Harry said, "I don't like you being anyone else's sexiest Quidditch player."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You can't be taking this seriously." To prove her point, Ginny dropped the magazine on the floor.

"You didn't see all the fan mail."

Harry led Ginny to their bedroom, where their bed was covered with dozens of hundreds of envelopes and a few pesky owls. Harry practically heard her jaw drop.

"This—this can't be possible," she said.

"D'you wanna read one?"

Ginny grimaced; she had a very profound experience of fanatics from Harry's fan mail. Though she was no Boy Who Lived, there were probably perverts who wanted to put their two cents in on her new title.

"I already did," he said. Harry picked up the letter from the nightstand and put on a very stuffy, sophisticated, Fudge-like voice.

"'Dear Ms. Ginevra Weasley,'"

"Oh no, did they write my whole name in the magazine?"

Ignoring her, Harry plunged on. "'I am aware that you have received a very fitting title this week from Broomsticks Weekly: the sexiest woman in Quidditch! What an honour! As such, you must want direly to celebrate. Though I could never say all that I adore about you in this letter, I believe that I could do justice at Madame Bankfoote's restaurant. Tell me your address, and I'll pick you up at eight o'clock for an evening filled with—'" here Harry couldn't contain another chuckle. "'—whimsical dancing and a glorious, candle-lit dinner. Yours truly, Kent Winsburrow.'"

"Ugh," Ginny groaned. "Are they all like that?"

"I dunno, I haven't plucked up the nerve to read any more."

"This is horrible – how'd you deal with these crazies?"

"Hmmm," he said, running his hand thoughtfully through an invisible beard, "I ignore it."

"That's it? As one of your first fan girls, I can tell you that ignoring this doesn't always work."

"That's all I can do about this. They're _your _fans."

* * *

After a few days Ginny recovered from the shock of her fan letters. She and Harry began to regard them as funny, since they tried not to think of serious people writing the letters, but of pranksters like George who wanted a good laugh. It got nearly impossible to ignore, however, one day while they were at the market.

Harry had gone off to the dairy section to look for orange juice, leaving Ginny to hunt for a cabbage head.

"What're you looking for?" a man behind her asked.

"Just a cabbage head."

"We could look for cabbage heads together, if you want," he said. He placed a bag of celery in her cart. The bloke was around her age, and his smirk told her that he'd rather do other things than look for a cabbage head with her.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said with feigned politeness.

"I just don't understand," he said, "why such pretty girls tie themselves down with these blokes. Honestly, you could have as many booty calls—"

"I agree with you," Ginny said. The man looked genuinely surprised, until he heard her next words. "You don't understand. I love my boyfriend, andI don't understand why I would ruin my relationship with him for some filthy little pervert who can't tell the difference between cabbages and celery!"

One of the Weasley curses was a boisterous voice. As she had "agreed" with the man, her voice gradually became louder and louder, until it was downright rowdy and the entire shoppe was staring at her. Harry was just a few dozen feet away from the cart during the last bit of the conversation, and as he dropped a cabbage head into the cart he said, "Just so you know, I _always _know the difference between cabbages and celery."

* * *

That night, Harry was washing the dishes while Ginny washed the clothes near him in the living room. They both joked about the celery man, but Harry's smile was completely stiff and he couldn't shake the bloke from his mind.

"What did the celery man say to you that got you so worked up?" he asked her.

"Hmmm," Ginny hummed in thought. "He was just being arrogant."

"Well, _how _was he being arrogant, exactly?" Harry moved to the living room so he could see her face.

"Why are you so curious? That looks like your interrogation face." She was looking away from him, though he could hear the smirk in her voice.

"I'm just wondering,"

"Of course. _Just wondering. _I suppose I turned into a ginger banshee because he made a move on me and I said no. Then he _just wondered _out loud about why pretty girls settle down with blokes when they could have booty calls."

Ginny said all of this in a rushed race between her and Harry's soon to be coming interruption. There was barely a second between her and Harry's interruption.

"_What? _The way you said it, he just made a stupid move and put celery in the cart. You said nothing about that part where he suggested that you could have more BOOTY CALLS of all things!"

"Don't you yell at me," she warned. "I didn't tell the whole story because I knew this would happen. You would turn into this fuming ball of Harry and seethe for days on end! You know that I don't take any of these people seriously."

"I know, but—"

"But what? When you first got your crazy fans, I accepted that they didn't faze you. But now that I'm the one with fans, it's completely justified for you to turn into a jealous Hungarian Horntail?"

"It's different!" he insisted.

"_How?_"

"You—you're my girlfriend. I love you, and these weird fan boys come and put celery in your cart and make moves on you. I might not be around the next time it happens!"

"I can take care of myself. You didn't step in when he made his move, and I did fine. I let it go; now you let it go!"

"I'm sorry," he said as he fell to the couch. "I'm just suddenly so jealous; I haven't felt like this since you were dating Dean. And even then, Dean wasn't a thousand mysterious fan boys sending you letters."

"It's okay. It's not like your little fans never irk me."

"Oh, how sweet. My tough, strong-as-steel girlfriend is jealous of letters just like I am."

"What a pair," she said as she closed the distance between them with a kiss.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the bit of waiting for this. One more chapter to go, and hopefully it won't take so long this time ;)**


	3. The Unnecessary Point

When Minerva McGonagall received a letter from Ginny Potter warning her about her son James, she had chuckled. Many parents worried that their children would simply wreak havoc their entire school careers, and it appeared that the Potters were no exception. Later that day, as she was passing by the trophy cases, she caught sight of James Potter's captain trophy. He had led the Gryffindor Quidditch team to victory two years in a row, and many were saddened to see him graduate. When news came that James and Lily had a son, the Hogwarts staff seemed to prepare themselves for Harry's pranks and incessant troublemaking. Lily had sent her a letter, warning her that Harry already tried to steal his father's broom at a few months old.

She did the exact same thing as she had all those years ago: chuckled and called it mother's fear. Gazing at the dusty old Quidditch trophy, Minerva suddenly had an epiphany. She had laughed at Lily's letter, but she had been correct. Harry had more on his plate than his parents did in their school days, and he had still managed to give her a few heart attacks each year. As a matter of fact, Harry had made more trouble than James did. Was it a continuous cycle? Would all Potters come to school and be more troublesome than their parents before them? Minerva felt exhausted thinking about it. _He's just an infant now, _she reasoned. _Don't be afraid of something that won't even happen for eleven years. _

Eighteen years and two Potters later, Minerva slapped her forehead with her palm and let out a growl of irritation. One Potter breaking things and running a much was enough, but _three. _She generally enjoyed her students, but those Potter children were stitched out of trouble, pranks, smarts, and pure mischievous evil. The three Potters, a few of the Weasleys, and many other students were clustered together and laughing at something. Believing there to be a poor bullied soul in the centre, Minerva demanded to know what was going on.

"Professor," James said in greeting. He was laughing, apparently so hard that he was wiping tears from his eyes. "You won't believe what my parents used to be called."

Her head tilted in confusion. James managed to get his hands on two magazines.

"Here's good old Dad," Lily said, pointing to an ancient Witch Weekly that proclaimed Harry as the most eligible bachelor. Minerva's eyes widened, though no one except for Al paid attention.

"And here's Mum," James said. Another ancient magazine was shown, with a young Ginny Weasley smiling at the camera and being proclaimed as the sexiest woman in Quidditch.

"Wow, look at this gene pool!" Fred Weasley said.

"Give me those!" Minerva demanded. James and Lily reluctantly handed the magazines to her, though they were still chuckling.

Al, on the other hand, looked a bit ill. "Those ruddy magazines," he said. Minerva couldn't help but agree. She had never known of those magazines until that day, and wished that she never had to see the Potters' paper exploits.

* * *

**A/N: So, here's the finale. I hope it's not too short...I have this habit of making the final chapter/epilogue of my stories shorter than usual. Either way, I hope you liked it :)**


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